


Finally Home

by fishingboatblues



Series: Stancest Week 2017 [3]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Anal Sex, Frottage, Incest, M/M, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-10-01 12:00:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10189451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishingboatblues/pseuds/fishingboatblues
Summary: Ford doesn’t answer his question, he just stares at Stan intently and it feels like his eyes are burning a hole into him or more precisely; a hole through his clothes. All Ford does is move closer to Stan and his bed. “Don’t take this as gratitude.” Ford tells him before reaching forward and grabbing Stan by his gold chain.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A really, really belated fic for Stancest Week, Day 3: Grunkle Stans.

The first time it happens he’s surprised but elated, hoping above all else that this will be the beginning of their reconciliation, hoping that this means he finally has his brother back. What it does mean, however? Is that Ford is no closer to thanking him than he had been the moment he returned, but he is ready to fuck him as it turns out.

It’s 10 pm and the kids are asleep in their beds, resting peacefully he hopes. It’s been a strange few days for them, having a new family member around must be a lot to get used to and god does he knew how awkward their strained relationship must be for them. Ford comes to him then, standing in the doorway like a flurry of hair and his dramatic as fuck trench coat, his eyes are wild in a way he’s only seen twice; once when Ford had failed a test because he’d been so tired he’d forgot to sign his name and the other being their reunion thirty years ago.

The first time he’d seen that look Ford had cornered him when they got home, fingers digging into Stan’s skin and his mouth biting and sucking marks onto Stan’s neck. Their parents had been out for the weekend, away to visit their father’s brother who had recently gotten married.

Ford had thrust against him, touched him with frantic hands and had asked Stan in no uncertain terms to make Ford forget about the test, to make him feel better. They’d spend the whole night fucking after that, Ford frantically riding his brother on the couch with as minimal amount of lube as Ford could get Stan to agree to. It was almost as if Ford had been trying to drive out his own disappointment in himself and his anger at his own limits by punishing himself with Stan’s cock.

After that they’d switched up and Ford had been gentler then, his hands rubbing and grasping at any part of Stan he could, his fingers even threading through Stan’s hair. Every touch had felt sensual and erotic but never quite enough, the pace had been slower too; much too slow if Stan was being honest. They’d spent like an hour and a half fucking that way, Ford slowly and minutely rocking into Stan as if he was doing everything in his power to stay nestled inside of Stan, to stay trapped and squeezed by his ass.

It had been one of the few times where he’d felt that, for once, Ford had needed Stan more than Stan had desperately needed Ford. So seeing that expression on his brother’s face already has him twitching in his pants against his will, already has his mouth dry and him swallowing against the lump in his throat.

“Sixer?” He asks his brother as he enters the room. “What do ya want?”

Ford doesn’t answer his question, he just stares at Stan intently and it feels like his eyes are burning a hole into him or more precisely; a hole _through his clothes_. All Ford does is move closer to Stan and his bed. “Don’t take this as gratitude.” Ford tells him before reaching forward and grabbing Stan by his gold chain.

Just as Stan expected Ford yanks him into a kiss, it’s the right mixture of teeth and tongue, the right combination of hot and wet. It’s the kind of kiss that makes a guy’s temperature rise, it’s the kind of kiss that has him nibbling at Ford’s bottom lip.

They say little as Ford practically forces Stan’s clothes off of his body, his hands insistent as he strips Stan until he’s bare as the day they both entered this world. He must be a hell of a sight to see, fat, hairy and naked in the glow of the moonlight; he knows he hasn’t aged quiet nearly as well as Ford and it’s a surprise Ford wants to do this _at all_. There are probably better looking people out there in town that could easily give Ford a good time, but it must say _something_ about his brother that he chose him of all people.

It could easily be out of convenience, Ford could just be coming to Stan because he knows Stan doesn’t have nearly enough self-worth to say no and loves Ford far too much to ever do so either. But maybe it’s something more meaningful than that, maybe there’s still hope for them; maybe their relationship isn’t as completely fucked as it looks. Maybe his brother still loves him in his own needlessly complicated way.

Stan reaches out, hands trying to slide their way underneath Ford’s sweater but Ford grabs him by the wrist and stops him, his grip is strong enough that Stan knows he’ll have bruises when he wakes up tomorrow morning. “ _Don’t_.” Is all his brother replies before pushing him onto the bed and taking his own clothes off before climbing on top of Stan.

Reluctant to break the spell that’s overcome his brother he retracts his hand and grips the bed sheets. It doesn’t take long for Ford to line up their bodies and take the both of them in hand, jerking them at a rough, speedy pace that has Stan cursing and writhing in Ford’s grip.

Ford’s grasp on the two of them is tight enough that Stan can feel every ridge, every vein of his brother’s cock pressed against him. He can feel every drop of pre-cum dripping down Ford’s tip and coating them both, he can even feel him working his callouses on their dicks and it’s fucking mesmerizing, fucking intense and heady like nothing he’s ever known.

He’s had with sex Ford before and in every way kids their age could’ve imagined and boy did him and Sixer _imagine_ , but somehow this feels different. When they were kids they’d tested every boundary, every limit they could get away with at the time, all in an effort to get closer, to feed the hunger they’d had for each other. But it’s been decades since then, been decades since Stan’s felt that sweet slide of sweat slicked skin against his, it’s been decades since he’s seen the way Ford’s brows furrow just so as he gets closer and closer to climax.

This should be nothing new to him, he knows that, but he can’t help but feel like it is even though the way Ford is looking at him, _touching_ him, is old in ways that are reassuringly familiar. Maybe the difference is just how long they’ve been apart, maybe the difference is the fear that Stan feels making a home inside his chest.

Ford’s frown deepens and Stan knows his brother is going to come soon, it’s as clear a sign as any and Stan knows that expression on his twin’s face all too well to be wrong. As expected Ford speeds up his pace and adds a few twists that have Stan curling his toes and avoiding Ford’s eyes. The last thing he wants is for Ford to see just how fucking desperate he is for this, just how much dignity he’s willing to give up for a goddamn booty call with his pissed off twin brother.

He knows one thing, though; he doesn’t want to come first. Despite how long it’s been since they’ve done this, forty years really, he can still read his brother cover to cover like Sixer’s an open book written in size sixty Helvetica.

He knows that if he gets off first Ford will have something to hold against him, something he can point to later and use as justification as to why Stan was clearly at fault for this. Something Ford will no doubt use to justify why he himself had no part to play in this, even though he was the one that came to him and initiated sex in the first place.

It doesn’t last long after that and to Stan’s credit he manages to avoid coming first, instead it’s Sixer that shudders and ejaculates across their chests. Ford doesn’t take long to snap out of his post orgasm bliss though and when he does he scowls down at Stan, as if somehow angry that Stan hasn’t gotten off yet.

Stan expects him to leave, to run off and pretend nothing ever happened and he opens his mouth, ready to tell Ford to call it a night, to leave him be but instead he doesn’t get the chance to as Ford slicks up his hand with his own come and takes a hold of Stan’s cock again.

Stan moans louder than any of the noises either of them have made up till now and Ford’s other hand shoots forward and presses against Stan’s mouth, quietening him as Ford jerks him off with a single mindedness that makes Stan’s thighs fucking _quiver_.

The expression on Ford’s face is mean and angry, it’s like getting Stan off is an inconvenience but they both know Ford could’ve left at any time, that he could’ve left the moment he’d reached his own satisfaction. Unless that satisfaction is seeing Stan twist and writhe for him, unless that satisfaction is seeing Stan helpless to say no to him, that is.

The optimistic part of Stan really hopes that anger of Ford’s isn’t directed at him and is instead directed at Ford himself and his own inability to disentangle himself from Stan, to fully estrange himself from their connection. It’s hard to tell with Ford sometimes and now is no different.

Ford thumbs at Stan’s slit and leans forward, only a couple of centimetres separate their foreheads and Stan is really feeling that difference. How many times had they leaned against each other that way in their youth, how many times had both of them closed that small but significant gap and rested their heads against one another? How many times had they moved from that intimate, affectionate touch to kiss each other? A fucking _lot_ ; that’s how many.

Stan can feel Ford’s panting breaths against his face and it surprises him, Ford’s already gotten off he shouldn’t be panting, fucking _gasping_ like jerking Stan off is some kind of intense task. He’d punched and pinned Stan to ground when he had come out of the portal, compared to that pumping Stan’s cock should be a goddamn breeze.

Ford’s hand on his dick halts for a second and he looks down at him and Stan can’t help but return his gaze. Looking back at his brother stirs up a lot of mixed emotions, happiness, sadness, anger, arousal, the whole shebang.

He almost wants to ask what the hell made Sixer stop, but then he realises all too late that it was a trap because his hand restarts it’s rhythm on Stan’s dick and he comes pretty much immediately. Fucking Ford, he always knows exactly how to make Stan cream himself; it’s pretty easy really since Stan’s so fucking gone for Sixer, completely head over heels for that absolute bastard.

Ford keeps pumping him, milking him through his orgasm as he keeps his gaze on him even whilst Stan shivers through his orgasm in fact he looks at him more intently than ever, almost as if he’s searching for something in Stan’s eyes that only he can provide his brother with.

He doesn’t seem to get it though as he simply looks frustrated again, simply looks as angry as he did the moment he walked through the door. The only thing that’s softened about his brother is his goddamn cock and the terrifying look in his bat shit crazy eyes.

He stands up from the bed and grabs a tissue from Stan’s nightstand, the fucker doesn’t even pass him one, getting rid of the evidence staining his chest before he throws on his clothes again. Looking at Ford nobody would be able to tell he just jerked off not only himself but his own twin brother, but maybe that’s the point, maybe that’s part of why he didn’t want Stan putting his hands on him; more plausible deniability this way.

God knows if Stan had been given free rein to touch his brother Ford would be covered in hickeys by now, Ford would have bruises on his hips and his hair would definitely look more than a little windswept and tangled. He’d look less composed than he does right now, he’d look like a hurricane swept right through the Shack and erotically manhandled his brother.

Ford leaves not long after fully dressing, he doesn’t even say goodbye but Stan had been expecting that would be the case; neither of them are much for words and Stan knows there’s nothing either of them could say that would fix…whatever this bullshit is between them. Years ago, if only in the comfort of his own mind, he’d have called it love but now? He isn’t quite sure that’s the case, not for Ford anyway; for Stan it’ll always be that way, but Ford has always played by his own rules in that regard.

It’s the kind of game Stan knows he’s never going to win, although it’s not like he was ever a player to begin with. Stanley sighs as he grabs a tissue from the bedside table and wipes himself down, it takes an hour to get to sleep after that and all he dreams of are six fingered hands and a grim frown on an even grimmer face.  

* * *

 

The second time it happens is after he runs for mayor, sure he failed spectacularly due to his own criminal record, but you’d think a criminal record wouldn’t matter when running for office since most of them are liars and crooks anyhow. Stan wouldn’t be surprised if they ended up electing some kind of reality show star or something once Tyler dies or resigns or whatever.

In any case it happens during an argument, there in Ford’s room and Stan’s really laying into Ford for giving Dipper a mind controlling tie of all things. Unfortunately, Sixer just can’t seem to grasp the fact that doing something like that is complete bullshit, instead Ford is giving as good as Stan is, retorting with moral justifications that are a little more Orwellian than Stan would prefer. It doesn’t take much for the fight to take an unexpected turn, all it takes really is Stan poking an aggressive finger at Ford’s chest.

“What is _wrong_ with you, Sixer? Giving the kid a literal mind control device, like what the heck Poindexter?” Stan asks, his finger digging into the material of Ford’s sweater.

Ford stares down at his finger for a second before glaring at his brother. “I’d advise against poking me Stanley-” Ford begins and all Stan can think of is pushing his luck, it’s always fun to mess with Ford. “-and in regards to Dipper; I thought it best as he has more common sense than you do.”

Stan frowns immediately at that and his hand clenches where it rests on Ford’s chest, it clenches as he grabs Ford by the collar of that stupid sweater. “What do ya mean he has more common sense?”

Ford rolls his eyes and places a hand on top of Stan’s as if to remove him from his person, but he stops before he even starts. “Unlike _some_ Dipper has never endangered the world.”

“This again?” Stan asks, jaw clenched in anger and he jiggles Ford in his grasp, as if trying to shake some sense into the idiot. “Goddammit Ford, ya can’t use that as an excuse for everything!”

Ford grabs Stan’s hands properly this time and tears them from his sweater, he holds them in the air instead of dropping them, his hands feel hot around Stan’s wrists. “Perhaps if you weren’t so impulsive, needlessly selfish and a danger to society I wouldn’t need to provide a child with a means of leashing that train wreck you call a mouth-”

Stan growls and tries to yank himself from Ford’s grip but his brother’s grasp on him is strong and has him trapped and if there’s one thing Stan Pines hates it’s being fucking trapped. “If you wanted to talk goddamn leashes maybe ya should’ve said somethin’ the night you pinned me to my bed, huh? The only thing that’s in danger right now is your goddamn _face,_ Sixer-”

Stan doesn’t get to finish that sentence because Ford presses his lips aggressively against Stan’s. The kiss takes him by surprise; he hadn't been expecting it, but really he should have been, this is just the way they are now.

He just stands there for a couple of seconds, his mouth a closed thin line even as Ford pulls Stan’s hands so they’re against Ford’s chest. He takes a moment to weigh up his anger and whether or not it’s worth breaking the kiss to break Sixer’s face, but as questionable as his math skills in this area _are_ he knows there’s no contest here; kissing Ford always comes first. Even when he knows he should be doing nothing of the sort.

Against his better judgement he opens his mouth and kisses his brother back with a fervour that betrays him, that shows Ford just how desperate he is for him, that shows Ford just how easy Stan caves to his touch.

The kiss is rough and passionate, a physical continuation of their earlier argument. Stan bites and nibbles Ford’s bottom lip whilst Ford attempts to dominate the kiss but instead Stan breaks it to bite at Ford’s jaw. His brother grunts and Stan takes that moment to free his hands and push Ford onto his stupid sofa bed _thing_ , he looks pretty surprised as he falls back on it with a small ‘thump’ noise.

Stan doesn’t give Ford any time to right himself or to control the situation like he usually does, instead he climbs on top of Ford and kisses him hard enough that their glasses clink together awkwardly.

Ford growls in irritation, lifts a hand to Stan’s face and before Stan knows it Ford’s yanking off Stan’s glasses and placing them carelessly on the windowsill, Stan yelps, squints and frowns at his brother. “Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doin-”

He kisses him again and this time without Stan’s glasses in the way the kiss goes smoother, Stan’s still pissed though, why does Sixer get to see shit when Stan doesn’t? He knows Ford would bat his hand away if he tried to take his glasses off, but it’s okay to do whatever he wants to Stan though, that’s just _like_ Ford.

In the end they manage to take off their clothes and it’s not a surprise that Ford ends up inside Stan’s ass this time around, that night two weeks ago having just been a prelude to this. Neither of them last as long as that first night, both of them coming quicker than the two of them would probably like, being old has a lot of downsides; Stan personally wouldn’t recommend it.

They lie down after orgasming, if only to catch their breath and, if Stan is being honest, that’s the best part of the night. Lying on top of Ford, breathing slowly and rhythmically with him whilst they come down from their afterglow is frankly better than any sex they could be having or have had with one another…it’s just intimacy plain and simple, and Stan? Stan has missed that feeling of being close to Ford more than anything else.

This feeling of intimacy lasts for all of fifteen minutes before Ford turns on his side, his body language stiff and expression resolute as he pretty much kicks Stan out of his room. Stan huffs and tries his best to hide how much Ford’s dismissal fucking hurts, how much his dismissal breaks him up in side as gathers his clothes and dresses, feeling awkward and used as he does so.

He can feel Sixer’s ejaculate dripping out his ass as he moves and he knows he won’t have time to clean himself tomorrow morning, so the first thing he does upon leaving Ford’s room is hop in the shower. An itch crawls up his skin and into his brain, he can feel his thighs shivering as he enters the spray and immediately he’s struck with the need to be clean, the need to rub himself raw until he can forget about how much of an idiot he is for letting Ford treat him this way. He spends an hour in there regretting at least ninety percent of his recent decisions as he allows himself to be drenched by the shower’s spray.

The third time is the last time, really, as far as he would call them ‘times’; it’s when everything changes. This is when Stan truly gets his brother back.

They’ve just dropped the kids off at the bus stop and Stan feels, well, he feels heartbroken even though he knows it’s not like he’s lost them or like they’ve died or anything but still he feels their loss keenly. He’d gotten so damn used to them being there every morning and every night, he’d gotten so used to hearing their footsteps on the creaky floorboards of the Shack. Fuck, he’d gotten used to never being alone and that, in itself, is the hardest hit to take and god knows he rather a round in the ring than this.

When they get back to the Shack he finds himself crying again, though it’s mostly just little sniffles as opposed to big fat salty tears; he still has a little class and decorum you know. He’s rubbing a fist at his eye when an arm wraps delicately around him, he startles at first but when he looks up and sees Ford looking at him with softness in his eyes he can feel himself physically relax.

“Sixer?” He questions as he turns into Ford’s touch. “What are ya doin’? I thought you’d be packin’ or something.”

Ford shakes his head and rubs Stan’s left shoulder absentmindedly. “We don’t even have a boat yet, Stanley, packing at this point would be a tad premature.” Ford tells him. “Ah…I, I wanted to see how you were doing…it’s hard saying goodbye and I know how much you care for them.”

Stan places a hand atop Ford’s and smiles at him. “They’re good kids and I’m gonna miss ‘em, ya know? I mean it’s not the last I’m gonna see of them, but it’s not the same as wakin’ up every mornin’ and them being here.”

Ford squeezes Stan’s hand and looks at him with such affection that Stan can’t really believe it, can’t really understand it either; only weeks ago him and Ford were at each other’s throats and now? Now Sixer’s really changed his tune and Stan’s still reeling from it, he’s expecting for the rug to be pulled out from underneath him at any moment.

Ford must read something off in Stan’s expression, something uneasy in Stan’s eyes and it’s an expression he’s quick to remedy as Ford raises his other hand to place it on Stan’s cheek. His thumb rubs gently against his cheekbone. Stan shivers at the feeling of Ford’s caress and finds himself leaning greedily into his brother’s touch.

The touch lasts for a couple of seconds before he hears Ford awkwardly cough to get Stan’s wandering attention. Stan frowns curiously, catches Ford’s eyes and to Stan’s surprise he looks…nervous and a tad skittish which is more than a little unusual for his brother these days. “If it’s any small consolation; you have me…” He shuffles awkwardly and makes an effort to look Stan directly and sincerely in the eye. “And, ah, if you’d have me I would very much like it if I were to wake up every morning beside you.”

Stan’s eyes widen and he looks at Ford a little shocked. God Stan has been dreaming of this, _hoping_ for this. He’d been yearning for Ford to come home to him for decades, for Ford to finally forgive him and now that it’s happening it feels almost unreal.

Stan doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to react to that; at least not in a way that would be able to express just how happy he is, just how moved he feels that this is something Ford wants so instead he just moves forward and kisses Ford gently.

He pulls away and grins at him softly. “Of course I’d have you, _of course_ I want that Sixer, that’s, fuck, that’s all I’ve ever wanted, ya know?” He kisses Ford again, a quick brush of his lips against Ford’s. “I love ya, okay? You don’t have to say it back, I know things have been fuckin’ crazy and we’re still gonna need time to get to know each other again but…I still care about you the way I used to and _nothin’_ is goin’ to change that.”

“Stanley…” Ford begins, voice wavering. “I don’t need to say it, but I will; I love you and I’ve been a fool to suppress it, to hide it. You have to know that even at my most angry, my most resentful I couldn’t resist my pull towards you...I couldn’t resist _you_. I kept coming back to you once I was home…I couldn’t stop myself.”

Stan grins at Ford’s words, his lips tilting upwards at the mere idea that Ford couldn’t resist him, that Ford had still desired him even when he had wanted nothing of the sort. It’s more than a little flattering, more than a little heart-warming. He places a hand on Ford’s and raises it to his mouth and kisses his knuckles one by one until he sees a blush spread across his brother’s face, it’s a stark contrast to the serious, dominating stance his brother had taken the last two times they had been any kind of intimate.

“You wanna wake up to me every mornin’ right? Well, take me to bed then, Poindexter.” Stan tells him with a smirk that’s practically taunting Ford into action. His words have their desired reaction as Ford rushes forward and envelopes Stan in his arms, they kiss briefly and after a few seconds they part and Ford does as Stan had asked.

The journey to Stan’s bedroom is a rushed, heated affair that causes them to lose and destroy many an article of clothing as they make their way there. Stan’s suit jacket somehow ends up resting on one of Stan’s displays, Ford’s pants land on the banister; luckily for them Soos and his grandmother have yet to move in, otherwise their trip upstairs could’ve been a traumatic event for all.

They’re naked by the time they enter Stan’s bedroom, they’re kissing one another heatedly, hands roaming across each other’s skin until Ford pushes Stan gently on top of the bed. Stan looks confused as Ford straddles him, as he reaches over Stan’s shoulder to look through Stan’s bedside table. After a few moments he returns with a bottle of lube gripped tightly in his hand.

Stan leans forward, ready to take the bottle from Ford’s hand, ready to spread himself open like he’d been expecting this encounter would go but Ford shakes his head.

“Stanley let me do this...the last few times we did this I was selfish and unfair to you, let me make up for that now. Now that I have you back I would like to show you just how much you mean to me.” He pauses, uncaps the bottle of lube and Stan gulps imagining Ford’s fingers inside of him...or rarer still Ford’s own fingers spreading and scissoring himself open for Stan’s cock. “Let me pleasure you.”

Before Stan even gets to ask Ford _what_ exactly he means by that he begins to coat his own fingers, Stan’s eyes widen as he watches Ford press his hand down towards his own ass instead of Stan’s.

Ford circles a finger around the rim of his hole and Stan watches with bated breath as he finally slides a finger inside, as teases himself with shallow thrusts of his hand. Stan stares at his brother as he fucks himself, as he fucking impales himself on his own hand, he stares and lowers a hand to his own groin.

When Ford inserts a second finger Stan takes himself in hand and starts to jerk off, the sight of Ford fingering himself making his dick rise and twitch against his palm. Goddammit, he hasn’t seen this in years, hasn’t seen this since they were curious teens letting off steam by fooling around in Stan’s bunk.

Ford doesn’t bother to add a third finger, far too impatient to prepare himself any longer. Stan’s nostrils flare as Ford’s fingers exit his ass with a ‘pop’, as Ford leans back and lines Stan’s dick up with his ass. Stan’s eyes are wide and he’s looking at Ford intently, panting as his brother positions him, Stan shivers as Ford takes a moment to trails his fingers delicately across Stan’s length.

Finally after a moment of teasing his brother Ford places a hand to Stan’s chest and slowly lowers himself down onto Stan’s erection. He kisses Stan to muffle the bellowing groan that comes as result of Ford impaling himself on Stan’s dick, whether or not it was Ford’s groan or Stan he doesn’t know but that’s hardly important.

Ford breaks the kiss only to mouth at Stan’s neck, only to bite marks onto Stan’s flesh that will no doubt bruise by tomorrow, for now they’re only reddened marks decorating his skin but Stan can’t wait for them bruise, for them to colour his skin for days. Stan’s hands grip at Ford’s ass as his brother begins a rhythm he knows won’t last long.

Stan finds himself kissing at Ford’s chest and sucking at his brother’s nipples as Ford raises and lowers himself on Stan’s cock, as he rides Stan with a pace that is so slow and gentle that Stan can scarcely believe the last two times they fucked had been between him and Ford at all. It’s almost like Ford is a completely different person, the contrast is extreme.

Stan can tell that Sixer’s really getting into it, that Ford’s really hungry for his cock and god it’s so fucking amazing. Stan nibbles at a nipple and Ford’s hips stutter, slamming down unexpectedly and they both fucking _groan_ , it feels so goddamn good and he can himself his balls tightening up, can feel himself twitching; he knows it won’t be long now.

Stan moves backwards to admire his handy work and damn do Ford’s nipples look good all hard and wet. Stan smirks and Ford’s eyes zero in on the expression and before Stan knows it he’s being kissed softly at the corners of his mouth, he’s being kissed on his cheek, fuck he’s being kissed on his forehead even.

Stan finds himself laughing, so happy, so fucking elated that he’s alive and that he’s with Ford. He kisses Ford on the lips and runs a hand through his hair, just letting himself touch Ford like he’s never really been able to recently. He stops kissing Ford and places a hand on Ford’s cheek, letting himself feel Ford’s skin underneath his fingers and letting himself enjoy how it feels to be inside of him.

He sighs and rubs a thumb against his skin. “I fuckin’ love you, ya know?”

Ford’s nostrils flare in response and he places a hand to the back of Stan’s head and brings their foreheads together just like they had always done in their youth. “I know.” He replies, voice rough and panting as he continues his pace. “I-I’ve always known and I haven’t been the best brother-”

Stan wraps a hand around Ford’s cock and kisses Ford to silence him, to stop him before he goes on a guilty rant because there’s no point in doing so. There’s no point in dwelling on the past not when they’ve made as many mistakes as they have.

They can’t go back in time and fix shit, it’s not like he can just go back in time or something and just force his past self and Ford to _talk_ , to just fucking communicate. That’s not how life works, that’s not how _they_ work, Pines men keeping on moving even if they really shouldn’t. Call it stubbornness or call it bravery; it’s just what they do.

They break the kiss and Stan stares Ford in the eyes, telling him with his expression alone that Stan ain’t going to let Ford guilt himself, that he ain’t going to let Ford bring himself down that way.  He headbutts Ford lightly and grins when his brother huffs a laugh at the casual show of affection.

Ford’s eyes soften and he rocks himself down onto Stan’s dick, taking him deeper than before. Raising himself only to thrust his cock into Stan’s grip wrapped firmly around him. His pace is faster than before, more desperate and Stan can tell Ford’s close to coming, he can see that familiar focused frown marring his face and Stan is getting close too. The sight and feel of Ford pulling him in deep is really making his dick twitch and the muscles in his thigh jump and shiver.

Stan can’t even breathe, let alone respond when Ford smiles at him, kisses his neck and says a muffled ‘I love you’ before his ass clenches around him and he paints Stan’s palm white. Ford’s hands ball into fists in Stan’s hair as Stan jerks him off a little, his hand milking Ford through his climax as he shudders and groans against him.

Stan gets off not long after, his hips jerking up into Ford a couple of times more before he spends himself inside of his twin. Ford bumps his head against his and they just stay there for a while, gaining back their breath as they pant.

Stan opens his eyes, surprised that they’d even been closed in the first place. He can’t even remember when that had happened and he laughs when he catches Ford gazing back at him with crazy ruffled sex hair and drunk, happy looking eyes. He’s looking at Stan like he’s the best thing in the world, like he’s head over heels in love and honestly it kills him; for years, for the majority of his life, he’d thought he’d never be able to see that again.

“You look ridiculous.” Stan raises a hand to Ford’s head and smooths Ford’s hair back. “Like some bird tried to make a nest outta ya damn hair.”

Ford chuckles even as he does the difficult task of disentangling the two of them, he’s still laughing even when he pulls Stan’s cock out and winces. “You look ridiculously pleased.”

Stan smirks and runs a hand down Ford’s sweat slicked back as they arrange themselves so they’re lying on the bed wrapped around one another. “Hmm.” Stan begins, getting a good feel of Ford’s skin against his, fuck does Poindexter ever feel cold but that’s just how his brother’s always been. “You did just fuck my brains out, Sixer.”

Ford rolls over to face him and his expression is familiar, _friendly_ and honestly isn’t that just crazy? He has his goddamn brother back and all it took was a transdimensional portal, a shitty ass dream demon, the goddamn apocalypse and Stan’s mind going up in smoke to make it happen. Eh, child’s play really. “I hope not.” Ford starts with a gentle grin, his hand reaching out and grasping Stan’s hand in his own. “That’s my favourite thing about you.”

Stan’s rolls his eyes skyward and shakes his head, god he’d forgotten just how sappy his brother could be, especially after a good fuck. Damn, he really _had_ missed this. “Well, my favourite thing about you, Poindexter, is everythin’ so try beatin’ _that_.”

It’s Ford’s turn to take his head incredulously. “ _Everything?_ ” He questions with an eyebrow elegantly arched.

Stan shrugs. “Well, okay maybe not everything. I’m really not a fan of that thing you do where ya close yourself off and don’t listen to people, yeah I don’t really like when ya do that.”

Ford laughs and scratches at the back of his neck almost bashfully. “Anything else?”

Stan purses his lips. “You also dress like a nerdy flasher, not gonna lie Sixer you look kinda silly tryin’ to be all badass ‘n’ stuff, flouncing around in that dorky coat o’ yours.”

Ford’s eyebrow rises higher. “Any _other_ complaints?” He asks, his voice exasperated but fond.

Stan smirks and wraps his arms around Ford, pulling him closer until they’re hugging. “Oh yeah _tons_ ; like for example you’re not kissing me and that’s a _big_ problem, Sixer, some might call it apocalyptic, ya know?”

“You’re an asshole.” Ford replies, punching his brother lightly in the arm.

“Takes one to know one, Poindexter.” Stan shoots back, a shit eating grin spread across his lips that his brother soon covers with his own and goddamn does it finally hit him just as he closes his eyes; Ford’s back, Ford’s curling up in his damn arms and kissing him. They’re together again and Ford is finally, _finally_ , home.  


End file.
